


My Sweet Sin

by Janina



Series: My Sweet Sin [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Breaking of Vows, F/M, Fluff, Jon is a priest, Sansa is a member of his church, Smut, probably blasphemous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9110986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: Jon is a priest and Sansa is a member of his church, and a volunteer. One afternoon in Jon's office bring to light the feelings and desires they have for one another.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this little ditty came from. Probably because I know it's gonna be a while for Jonsa smut in a few other stories of mine and needed a little...release. 
> 
> I am keeping it open. I may add more.

It was on the days that Sansa volunteered for the church that Jon's collar felt as though it was strangling him. She would come in, all smiles, smelling like ambrosia, and looking like - not to be a complete cliche - heaven. She would greet him and his office manager and do whatever was asked of her - stuffing envelopes, updating mailing lists - it didn't matter how boring the work was, she did it without question and complaint. 

On those days, Jon lingered in the office. He just wanted to be close to her even as he knew it was wrong. Sansa Stark was temptation with a capital T. He would think she was sent directly from the Prince of Darkness to tempt him away from his vows if she wasn't so angelic. 

Today, he was pretending to make changes to his schedule while Sansa stuffed envelopes for a mailing. He kept looking at her - the curve of her neck, how she would purse her lips together every so often, and how her red hair would fall around her shoulders. Sometimes, it would get in her face and she'd tuck it behind her ear. Jon's palms itched with the desire to glide his hands through all that hair. 

"Father Jon?" she said, not even looking at him as she spoke, but keeping to her task. 

Jon cleared his throat, thinking he had it quite bad when the sound of her voice made his heart race. "Yes, Sansa?"

"I don't know if I ever thanked you for how you helped me when my father died."

"You did. You came here to volunteer. That said everything I needed to know."

She looked over at him, a small grateful smile on her beautiful face - Why did she have to be so perfect? So sweet and kind and lovely and everything he should not want and could not have? She consumed his thoughts, every night he did penance on his knees for how he lusted for her, for how he cared for her and wanted her. Sometimes he thought he'd go stark raving mad with all the feelings roiling inside of him. 

On the days he knew she was coming, he would spend extra time preparing - making sure his black curly locks were neat, his beard trimmed, his clothes pressed...his collar straight. He put on cologne, too. 

The hour before she arrived, time came to a crashing halt and he would glance at the clock constantly, counting the minutes until she came. He felt as though he'd crawl right out of his skin, and then, when he heard her arrive at the rectory, his heart would race and his palms would sweat. 

More than once he'd wondered if this was love. Was he in love with Sansa Stark? Or was this just a case of lust? He knew colleagues in other parishes who had found themselves in similar situations. They'd all managed to avoid actually doing anything, and eventually their feelings would abate. 

Jon thought maybe he just needed to ride this out, and it would go away on its own given enough time. But it'd been almost a year now since Sansa had first come to see him, big blue eyes filled with tears and a trembling bottom lip, asking for some guidance after her father died of an aneurysm. She had come to see him every week for two months and they'd talked and prayed together until she felt she could handle it on her own. When she'd left that last session, Jon had been torn between despair of ever seeing her again outside of mass, and wanting to never see her again lest he give in to all the feelings she'd aroused in him. 

Then she'd shown up and asked to volunteer and Jon knew he was doomed. 

"May I ask you a question?" Her tone was less solemn now, almost playful. 

"Of course," he said. 

"Did you always know you wanted to be a priest?"

"Yes, I did. I felt the call for it pretty early on."

"Was there anything else that interested you?"

"Park Ranger," Jon said with a grin. 

She laughed and Jon found himself laughing as well. Her laughter was contagious, as were her smiles. 

Jon stood and went over to sit beside Sansa on the love seat where she was working. She smiled at him. "You know you don't have to keep me company if you have things to do, Father."

"Please, call me Jon. And I don't mind keeping you company. I could help?"

"I'm almost done."

He didn't want her to be done. That meant she would leave until next week. He'd see her at mass, but she'd be with her mother and it wasn't the same as having her right here with him. 

"Are you all right, Jon?" she asked gently. "You look a bit...stressed."

He forced a smile. "I'm all right. Thanks for asking."

"Do you have a headache? I have some ibuprofen in my purse."

"No no, I'm all right."

"Are you one of those people that won't take anything?" she asked teasingly with narrowed eyes. 

He laughed softly. "No. I just don't have a headache."

"I know!" She snapped her fingers and jumped up. She pointed to the arm chair before his desk. "Sit here, please."

He looked at her, puzzled, but got up and did as she asked. 

He shouldn't have listened to her. He should have remained where he was. Jon realized the error of his ways when he felt her hands on his shoulders, kneading them firmly and yet gently. His body was instantly set aflame. Sansa was touching him. Her hands were on him. He groaned, unable to stop it. 

She laughed. "Feel good?"

"Like heaven."

She laughed again. "Father? Er, Jon? Could you take your jacket off? Would that be all right?"

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But he did anyway because this was Sansa, and he was powerless against her. 

He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the love seat, leaving him in his black shirt and the collar that felt like a noose. It was worse now. Her warms hands felt like a burn on his skin. She hummed as she kneaded his tense muscles, but he wasn't sure how much she was helping since he was tense from her touch. 

And then he started to get hard. 

Good God in heaven, he was depraved. 

"Sansa, I'm good, I think you can stop now," he managed to choke out. 

"Are you sure? You're still so tense--"

He got up and moved away from her. "I'm all set, thank you," he said curtly and went to stand behind his desk. When he glanced up at her, he felt awful. She looked so hurt. 

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked worriedly. 

"No," he croaked. 

"Then what's wrong?"

He shook his head and looked down. "Sansa, I can't - I'm not sure you should come here anymore."

"Why?"

He couldn't say it. He couldn't tell her. "I just don't think you should."

Something changed in her. She went from looking hurt to looking determined. She stood taller, her eyes went from softly inquiring to hard and glittering. He'd learned that Sansa might appear a bit fragile, but she was anything but. She had steel in her. "No. Tell me why, Jon."

"Sansa--"

She marched to the door and for one horrible second Jon thought she meant to leave. He didn't want her to go, despite his asking her to, and he realized how he was a mass of contradictions, but he he couldn't help it. He wanted this woman desperately, but he _shouldn't._

But, she didn't leave. Instead she shut the door. Even locked it. No one was there today though. Just them. But she'd went ahead and taken that extra precaution...

"Sansa," he breathed. 

" _Why_ , Jon?"

He looked at her, drank her in. She wore a skirt today and her legs, those long legs of her, were on display. Her top clung to her like a second skin, but it wasn't improper. There was nothing about Sansa that was improper, just him. Just his desire for her. 

"Because I want you," he finally said, his voice hoarse. "I want you so much I can't see straight. You're all I think about. It's a sin, Sansa, it's a sin to want you--"

"I want you too," she said softly. "I -- I think I'm in love with you, Jon."

He was practically panting he was breathing so hard. His eyes shut tight and he clenched his jaw. "You should go," he rasped. "Go now before I can't..."

"Can't what?"

"Stop myself."

She stood there, staring at him. He didn't know what he'd do if she left. He also didn't know what he'd do if she didn't. 

She took a deep breath as though bracing herself and said, "I don't want you to."

He was moving before he could register that he was moving. He reached for her, took her face in the palms of his hands and kissed her hungrily. He pushed her back against the door and pressed himself against her. 

Her arms went around his neck and he felt his collar shift. He broke the kiss, and rested his forehead against hers. He was panting now. "You taste so sweet," he said, and it sounded like a whine. 

"Kiss me again," she whispered, but then she took over and kissed him instead. 

Jon moaned, his hands moving into her hair. Finally, that red hair was in his hands and Good God, it was as soft as he thought it would be. 

When he felt her hands at his belt buckle, he broke the kiss and met her gaze straight on. Her red lipstick was mostly gone now, a bit smeared on her bottom lip, and Jon lifted his hand and wiped the smear away. He claimed her lips again with a groan as he kissed her and she undid his belt and then the snap of his pants. 

He was hard and dripping, and just as he knew that this was wrong and he shouldn't do this, he also knew that he would. He'd never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted her and that was saying something. Something he'd think about later. Right now, he just wanted to lose himself inside his sweet Sansa. 

_His._

He licked inside her mouth, feeling a bit out to sea. He hadn't kissed a woman in a very long long time. Not since he was nineteen and uncertain if he should proceed with his quest to become a priest. But then Sweet Sansa moaned and met his tongue with her own and he knew he did it right. 

She shoved his pants and his boxers down and took him in hand. Jon shuddered, also not having felt the touch of a woman like this since he'd last kissed a woman. When his Sweet Sansa spit in her hand and then wrapped her hand back around him, he swore he went cross-eyed. 

"I want to taste you," she whispered. "Can I?"

"No," he grunted. "I'm too close already. I want inside you."

"I'm on the pill, just so you know," she said and then kissed him again. 

Jon broke the kiss long enough to kick off his shoes and yank off his pants and boxers. He then pulled her to the love seat and gently pushed her to sit down on it. Jon sank to his knees before her and pulled off her sandals. Then he reached under her skirt and, with his hands shaking with need, pulled her panties down. He dropped them to the floor, thinking he would steal them later for a happy memory. 

Sansa, meanwhile, shimmied out of her skirt and spread her legs, showing him her wet pussy. Jon dove in, mouth first, and licked at it. He'd done this once. He hoped he could do it again. He felt Sansa shiver and then she moaned, carding her fingers through his hair as he licked at her clit. He reached down and tugged on his dick while he flicked his tongue rapidly against her nub. 

"Jon," she sighed. "Oh, Jon, yes..."

He took his hand off his dick and after sucking on two fingers, sank them slowly inside her. She was so tight and Christ (great, now he was using the Lord's name in vain in his head) she was wet. 

As he swirled his tongue around her clit, he began to pump her with his fingers. 

"Jon!" she gasped. "I'm going to come."

He curled his fingers inside her as that one girl had taught him to do so long ago and hoped like hell he was doing it right. He must have because Sansa cried out, her hands gripping his hair as she moved her hips against his face. She wet his beard with her juices and Jon hurriedly lapped them up. He thought about touching himself again, he was so fucking hard, but he couldn't. He would come and he wanted to be inside her when he finally let go. 

He pressed open mouth kisses on the inside of each thigh, pushed her shirt up to suck at her breasts over her bra, and then she was guiding his mouth to hers and kissing him passionately. 

"Let me ride you," she murmured. 

Jon groaned and flopped down on the love seat. Sansa got up and then climbed over him, straddling him. His cock made contact with her wet pussy and Jon groaned, his head falling back against the love seat. His hands went to her hips. God, her skin was so soft...

At the feel of her hand guiding him to her cunt, Jon knew he was damned. At the feel of her wet heat encasing his dick as she slid down on him, he knew he didn't care. 

"I love you." The words flew out of his mouth without thought. 

She paused, gazing down at him. "Do you really? Or is it because you've never done it and this feels amazing?"

He laughed throatily. "I've done it. Once. When I was nineteen."

"Then it's true what they say," she murmured with a grin. "Having sex can be like riding a bike. You never forget. Cause the way you went down on me? That was amazing."

He drew her face down and kissed her. "I do love you, Sansa. God help me, but I do."

She rolled her hips, and took him deeper inside her, wrangling a gasp from Jon. "I love you, too," she whispered. 

"I'm not going to last long," he told her with a short, self-deprecating laugh. "It's been a while."

She laughed softly. "That's okay. Next time you'll last longer."

Jon opted not to comment on the idea of a 'next time'. 

Soon, she was bouncing up and down on his cock while he gripped her hips. He was trying not to come to fast, but the things she was doing to his cock, gripping him with her pussy muscles, squeezing him...

Plus, it was Sansa. This gorgeous angelic creature who had capture his heart so completely. 

When she stilled with just the tip of him inside her and kissed him, Jon lifted his hips, needing her wet heat surrounding him again. 

"You feel so good inside me," she whispered. "Fuck me, Jon."

He did, holding her above him as he thrusted hard and fast inside her. 

"I'm coming," she gasped, her face flushed, sweat dampening her forehead. "Right there - right there - Jon!" 

Feeling her pussy contract on his cock was too much for Jon. He held himself deep inside her, his body jerking as he came. "Sansa, Sansa, Sansa...oh God, Sansa..." 

Sansa fell against him, resting her chin on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her. 

"I've never wanted anything as much as I want you," he whispered as he ran his hand down her back. He wanted her naked. Completely naked. 

She pulled back and looked down at him. "Not even being a priest?"

"No," he said hoarsely. "Not even that."

Her smile was a bit sad. A bit contemplative. "Well then, Father Jon. Where do we go from here?"


End file.
